Page 49 of Burned By Sin
The night hits me like a cold punch to the chest, reeking faintly of rain and smoke. Streetlamps cast long, eerie shadows over rows ofempty cars. My breath comes out in ragged bursts as I scan the lot frantically, finding no sign of him. There’s no sound either, aside from the distant alarm and pounding of my own heartbeat in my ears. He was right here, he can’t have just disappeared.
I stalk the length of the car park, my knuckles cracking as I waste precious time. Dropping to my knees, I peer beneath the nearest row of cars, moving fast, scanning the ground. Still nothing. Frustration spikes hot in my chest until I finally straighten and a shape catches my eye. Leaning casually against a streetlamp, like he’s been waiting for me, he suddenly bolts down the hill.
My muscles snap tight, my boots hardly touching the ground as I take chase once again, my clenched fists pump by my sides. The incline of the slope forces me to slow before I go head over ass and roll to the bottom. Mud slips beneath my soles but my eyes don’t waver from the back of his beanie-covered head. The rest of him is covered in black, from his hoodie and trousers, to his gloves and boots. Whoever he is, he knows the layout of the campus.
Veering right, I follow him beyond the arts building into an expanse of trees. I burst through the tree line, my shoulders tense enough to cramp but nothing will stop me from catching this asshole once and for all. A flicker of a shadow catches my attention to my side, forcing me to quickly alter course before I slam into a tree trunk. The night consumes me, the fire alarm barely audible in the distance. I slow now, stalking closer, squinting to make out the moon-illuminated woodland around me.
A twig snaps behind me, and I turn in confusion. Drawing me back the way I came, I spot the shadow darting across an opening amongst the trunks. I close in on him, jumping over a fallen log and rushing forward on hurried feet. I lose and spot him repeatedly, barreling forward with one clear thought in mind. Before I hand him over to the police, I’m going to make this fucker pay for every bad intention he’s ever had towards Harper.
His mouth will be so swollen, he won’t be able to squeal. Hisfingers will be broken in so many places, they’ll never be able to reset them well enough to creep on unsuspecting girls ever again. The dangerous side to me has flared to life, one I was convinced had stayed behind in my cell.
The deeper I trek into the woodland, the quicker I’m plummeted into pure darkness. Clouds block any hopes of light I had, forcing me to stop and take stock of my surroundings. Silence echoes around me, not even the wildlife daring to breathe.
I’m about to turn back when something slams into the back of the head. Not hard enough to hurt, but large enough to piss me off. Spinning and feeling by my feet, I find the offensive object. That bastard threw a pinecone at me.
Once again, I take off in a different direction, my patience well and truly diminished. I’m done with being taunted. Even when I’m this close to wringing his damn neck, the asshole is playing with me. This time, I ram forward with the force of a bull. My shoulders slam into tree trunks, pain I refuse to acknowledge flaring to life beneath my skin. Branches overhead shake with each assault, birds desperately flapping into the sky to get away. I don’t stop, unable to decipher which shadow I’m chasing so I hunt down all of them.
Evidently, I make one huge circle back to civilization, light streaming through the trunks from another building. Straight ahead, I spot the silhouette heading towards campus and a grin spreads across my face. I’ve got you this time. Nothing else exists right now other than seeking vengeance on the one who’s put my girl in harm’s way. I fly through the woodland and burst free of the trees, slightly disorientated.
Ahead, a house looms at the end of a lawn. The tell-tale porch wraps around the exterior with a covered hot tub at one end. Rhys’ house. The Beanie Bastard, as I’ve decided to name him, is sitting on the porch steps looking relaxed as fuck. How the hell did he get there so fast?
Spotting me, he jumps up and runs around the side garage beforedisappearing. I’m tired of this bullshit, but I push on. I don’t have any other choice. My calves burn and my shoulders ache, but it’s the tightening in my chest that has my full attention. Fuck, please let her be okay.
My feet hit the concrete of the main road, making my advances even more effective. Now we are on a smooth surface, the gap between us closes within moments. My chest heaves, my thighs pushing me even faster as he tries to slip into the courtyard. Fisting the material of his hoodie at the corner of the Dean’s building, I hoist him straight off his still-running feet and throw him down onto the cemented path. He drops like a sack of shit, but I’m not done yet.
He rolls over, wide eyes staring at me in the artificial light of the windows. I drag him up, slamming him into the building hard enough to draw a pained yelp from his mouth and immediately punch him in the face. Then again, and once more for good luck. I snarl like an animal, curling my hand around his throat as I finally let the haze in my eyes clear enough to assess his features.
Upturned eyes, a thin nose, alabaster skin. His gangly frame struggles against my hold, his scrawny neck fitting snugly into the palm of my hand. I don’t know this man, but he’s about to know me.
“Who are you?” I growl in his face. He whimpers like a wounded animal but I’m not fooled. I raise my fist again and he flinches violently. Good, he should be scared because by the time I’m done with him, he’ll be unrecognizable to his own mother. I pull my arm back further to drive my fist home in his face when something makes me pause.
“P-p-please, wait!” he stutters, tears springing free from his scrunching eyes. “It was j-just a joke your f-friend wanted to play on you.” My brows pinch, a sense of dread running through my spine. Lifting a shaking hand, he points beyond my shoulder. I would ignore his attempt at distractions, if lighthearted chatter didn’t filter through the rush of blood pulsing in my ears. Peering back, my blood freezes in my veins.
Behind me, filling the courtyard, are countless bodies dressed headto toe in black. They joke and laugh theatrically, every single one of them wearing a black beanie.
“What the fuck?” I mumble, vaguely aware my hand has slackened as the kid slumps into a pile of limbs at my feet. My eyes can’t compute what they’re seeing, my thoughts becoming scrambled. Turning, I stumble forward, confused and fatigued from my run. From the steps of the library to the edge of the fountain, bodies fill the quad. I draw closer to the throng, gaining a few appreciative glances from girls who giggle as I pass.
One in particular steps into my path with a wide smile revealing a set of straight, pearly white teeth. Blonde hair leaks out from beneath her black beanie giving me Gwen Stefani vibes.
“Hey handsome,” she drawls, looking at me like a piece of meat. “You got the cargos part right, but the casting call specifically requested all black. Although I like your style a lot better.” She trails her fingers up my arm on the flannel shirt, confidently squeezing my bicep. I stand there, unable to compute what’s happening.
“Casting call?” I ask dumbly. Bodies bump around us, the excitement in the air tangible. Many are holding coffee cups from our open cafeteria as they seem to wait around for something. I’m a head taller than most of the crowd, able to look around the sea of beanies which seem to mock me.
“Yeah, you know? The casting call that brought us all here?” The Stefani-wannabe rolls her eyes as she pulls out her phone and shows me the screenshot. It’s a poster made from a faded image of Waversea Academy, calling for anyone interested in a flash mob dance. Below is the date, time, and address before promising the best night of their lives. The person responsible is calledThinkPinkwith a fuchsia-haired avatar as her profile picture. One guess who that could be. Oblivious to my clenched jaw, the girl continues to talk slowly as if I’m dense.
“Everyone who commented got a DM about the dress code. Maybe it’s still stuck in your message requests?” She shrugs. “Rumor has itsome of the guys were given special roles to play before the show. Are you one of them?” Her eyes drink me in and she raises her hand as if tempted to touch me again. I step back, bumping into a guy who is the same size as one of those I was chasing. He ducks his head and quickly slinks out of sight, losing himself amongst the masses.
I could hunt him down and demand answers, but my gut tells me it’ll be another dead end. Another alias we won’t be able to decipher. The images we were trying to protect Harper from are out there now, so it’s time to let the police take over. I need to be with her, to know she’s okay.
The tight band around my chest returns as my feet start running again, this time taking the quick route past the hall and toward the hill beyond. Images appear in my mind, visions of the worst possible outcome trying to drown out the hope I’m clinging to. I left Wavershit in charge of saving her, and for once, I pray he’s come through.
The fire alarm is no longer blaring as I stumble toward the main door, spotting the red flashes emanating from behind the building. I drag myself to the rear, discovering two fire trucks parked haphazardly. Men draped in heavy, beige uniforms are packing hoses back into the vehicles, having done their jobs. Behind, tucked into the back of an ambulance, Harper is wrapped in a silver blanket and Rhys’ arms. Her cheeks are smudged black and her eyes are downcast, an occasional cough erupting from her lips as I near.
Rhys clocks me first, shoving to his feet quickly enough to alarm Harper. “Well?” he demands gruffly. I narrow my eyes on him before shoving him aside.
“We’ll discuss it later.” I crouch in front of Harper, cupping her cheek gently. Her green eyes settle on me with relief, but there’s also an emptiness in their emerald depths. Her small smile seems to be more for my benefit than anything else, since there’s a defeated slump to her posture.
“Are you okay, Beautiful?” I breathe.
